


i'll trust in the weight of your words

by orphan_account



Series: your heart is my sanctuary [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reminiscing, Slight Melancholy, because they need more hope in their lives, i'm not sure what to tag, they just talk to each other, this is just a little scene in their life after the end of empty spaces in your heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ehe i wouldn't say this is a continuation, it's just a little thingie i thought of on the spot. i guess i wanted to share the progress in their relationship in how they communicate, at least, after the end of empty spaces. :'')





	

**Author's Note:**

> ehe i wouldn't say this is a continuation, it's just a little thingie i thought of on the spot. i guess i wanted to share the progress in their relationship in how they communicate, at least, after the end of empty spaces. :'')

_“We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close can we come to that person's essence? We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?”_

The Autumn light pooled through the windows and shone against the outline of his back as he leaned against the wall, the afternoon warmth encompassing his body in a quiet tranquility. The room was coruscating with a bright glow that permeated the vacancy of the place, filling the cracks of the walls and the ceiling with an indeterminate luminosity. The coldness of the place seemed to ebb away into that of a gentler disposition. He was about to flip to the next page before he noticed the weight of someone’s unabashed stare fixated on him, making his fingers halt. He looked up with vestiges of displeasure etched into the lineaments of his countenance, finding Mark’s dark irises settled on him, eyes with bottomless and astute depth. 

“What?” Jinyoung dog-eared the page and closed his book. 

“Nothing,” There was a quiet smile on Mark’s face, “just looking at you.” 

He narrowed his eyes as he put the book down. The adamancy in his honesty always managed to catch him off guard, “Well, it’s unsettling.” 

Mark turned on his back to stare up at the ceiling on his bed, “I was just thinking.” 

Jinyoung merely raised an eyebrow. There was a silence that suspended between them, where he could hear the jumbled convolution of Mark’s thoughts in the gaps of the quietude that flittered in the air. From the slight furrow in his brows and the constant gnawing of his bottom lip, a habit he has yet to quell, Jinyoung knew that the thoughts churning in his plaintive mind was probably absurd. 

“I was just thinking,” Mark repeated, eyes never leaving his ceiling, “if I were to go back to Los Angeles, would you come with me?” 

Completely absurd.

Jinyoung stared at him with profound intensity, one that spoke magnitudes of disbelief and puzzlement behind the solemn tranquility of his expression. Mark turned his head to meet his eyes, unwavering but visibly uncertain in his own notion as well. Emitting a silent sigh, he let the stoicism of his features relax, “Why do you want to go back there?” 

Mark blinked slowly as he hummed in thought, something wistful pooling deep into his dark brown irises, “I want to pay my father and brother a visit.” 

Jinyoung regarded him carefully, “But not your mother.”

Mark shook his head, a sad smile on his face, “No. I think it’s been established that we won’t be seeing each other for quite a long time, but I’m okay with it.” He paused, eyes flickering to the side, “I just wanted to go back. I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye to them when I first left.” Jinyoung knew that the deep-seated saturninity was still protuberant in the crevices of his heart whenever the topic of his brother would be brought up, or whenever he thought of him that would dim the light in his eyes, so it was a bit of a surprise to hear that Mark wanted to see him, even though the last time he did, it had been his cadaver underneath a sea of red. Only this time, it would be his grave. 

He heaved out a breath as he tried to control the slight heat in his chest that throbbed with a soft thrum, “Why should I go?” 

“I don’t know,” Mark admitted feebly, “I was just thinking.” His tone suggested more than that, but it looked as though he was biting back the words, as though that was all he could say and could leave his mouth. Jinyoung glanced down at the thick book in his hands, thumbing the thin pages and the hardcover. He didn’t need to think twice in his decision, although he was curious as to why Mark would ask him to go with him back to his hometown, the sultry place with a dome of a blazing sun where he grew up in a childhood that was as rough as sandpaper, broken as glass that left scars, but raised with a quiet tenacity as strong as the heat waves. But, in the clockwork of his mind, lingering around in the back of his head, Jinyoung knew why. It was a step forward in letting go of the pernicious guilt, even if it’ll never truly go away, but it’ll wane just like the receding waves of the ocean into that of a gentler tide, and he needed someone to be the safeguard that’ll keep him upright in the time of vulnerability and resurfacing grief. 

“There’s an ice-cream shop I frequented as a child,” Mark spoke up in a light, dreamy voice as he closed his eyes, as though he was reminiscing the blurry memories, “I used to go there with my dad all the time. The treats there are really sweet. Maybe you’ll like it too. I can take you there. You’ll see the home where I grew up in, even if it never really felt like home sometimes.” 

“Where is your home now, then?” The words left his mouth before his brain could comprehend it. 

The sadness in his smile brightened faintly as Mark turned to look at him, “With you.” 

Jinyoung put the book aside and stood up, padding towards where he laid on his bed. Mark stared up at him, nonplussed, as he towered over him. “Move.” Confused, Mark did as he was told so, scooting to the side and his shoulder hit the wall. Jinyoung climbed onto the bed and settled comfortably beside him in a candid manner, and stared up at the ceiling as well. The silence seemed to prolong in a thoughtful atmosphere, their hands slightly brushing against each other. Mark’s hands were cold. 

“I’ll go.” 

Mark turned to look at him with wide eyes. Jinyoung thought it was foolish that Mark didn’t expect a 'yes' in the first place. 

“Just don’t cry.” Jinyoung ignored the surprise in his expression. 

“Because men aren’t supposed to cry?” That elicited a light chuckle from him, his eyes crinkling. It was a probably a joke-- a rare one, at least, made by him, but Jinyoung didn’t laugh. He didn’t respond for a moment as he ran his fingers over his own knuckles, the illusory bruises nonexistent on the skin of his hands yet he could still feel the very ghosts of it at times, the jagged patterns of calloused scars and the tender pain whenever he so much as moved it slightly. His hands painted a tamed, gentler picture now, violence a faraway concept no longer embedded deep into the sheer grooves of his bones. 

“No.” Jinyoung didn’t let his hand clench into a fist. “Men are allowed to cry whenever they want. I just don’t want to see your tears.” _Because that means you’re hurting again._

Mark intertwined their fingers gently. With their interwoven hands, Jinyoung let the facade of solemnity fall into something more tender and calmer, a side he didn’t let anyone else see but him. He felt Mark squeeze his hand a bit tighter. His hands were warm.

“I’ll be fine,” Mark said, “because I’ll have you there.”

Jinyoung let the edges of his mouth lift into a tiny smile, one that made the ice in his eyes thaw, and trusted in the genuine assurance of his words. The heaviness in his heart seemed to dissipate. The world seemed much lighter, nowadays. His shoulders were able to bear the weight that slowly diminished.

“The feeling’s mutual.”

**Author's Note:**

> i know they didnt do much but talk, but they did learn to be there for each other in a way that didn't need words, and so i wanted to express that. idk they're wdkfjslkdfjaks;dlk, but thank you for reading!


End file.
